


Digging Graves

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:17:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who says you can’t dig a grave from the bottom? [Sam Winchester x Lucifer]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Digging Graves

**Author's Note:**

>   
> _“Tilling my own grave to keep me level_  
>  Jam another dragon down the hole  
> Digging to the rhythm and the echo of a solitary siren  
> One that pushes me along and leaves me so...   
> Promised I would find a little solace   
> And some peace of mind   
> Whatever just as long as I don’t feel so  
> Desperate and ravenous...”
> 
> Weak and Powerless by A Perfect Circle
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

They got into another fight.

It wasn’t like the others where Sam Winchester is trying to make his older brother see reason, or Dean was scolding Sam on not keeping his eyes on the prize: the big picture. This one was a touchy one, and the young Winchester knew deep down inside he took it too far. He brought up dad. No matter how many months it has been since the day their dad took a nosedive to the grave, it was still such a sensitive topic. Both boys would tense up, curl their lips, walk around the subject before one of them caved into a broken confession.

Sam was usually the one to do that, but this time...

_“You’re goddamn ungrateful, you know that? Dad worked his ass off for us -- for you. Than you had to run off to fuckin’ college.”_

_“Dean, Dad didn’t give a rat’s ass about you or me. All he does is hover, bitch, and boss us around. I loved my time in college. He wasn’t around.”_

_“Than you must be loving the fact he isn’t here now, right?”_

_“You see me saying ‘no’?”_

It was completely spiteful, and he knew that if he let those words spill out of his lips all hell would break loose. But honestly, he has been itching for a fight for a good two days now. Sam was stressed, worn, and in dire need of some sort of form of comfort. Dean wasn’t the kind of person to offer even a ‘how are you?’ let alone some sort of form of an embrace. He wasn’t a source of consistent encouragement and a morale booster. Jessica was like that...maybe that’s why he loved her so much. She knew how to keep his ego elated and a smile plastered on his face.

Sam thought the fight would leave him feeling a bit better...but instead he could only feel a rising headache and a sickening sensation in his stomach. Drinking until he couldn’t walk straight was by far one of the dumbest ideas he has concocted. Attempting to find their motel room to sleep this off was another one of these terrible ideas. The long-legged Winchester could feel his limbs struggle to walk in a coherent line, and his tall frame could only sway. Usually Dean would be there to wrap his arm underneath his armpits and attempt to yank him to room, complaining about how difficult it was to escort a drunk moose about. However, tonight he would be facing this adventure solo.

The Winchester smiled at the memory before it became sour, remembering he was supposed to be pissed. Grumbling something dark under his breath, he found the motel door, delving a hand into his pockets for the key. It took him three minuets to find the keyhole, eyes blearily trying to steady his tilting world, while his right hand was steadying his left. Pushing himself into the room, feeling his body tilt dangerously forward as gravity seemed to be unable to cooperate with him. Sam knew he was being sloppy. Knew that he was too loud in the bar, too loud leaving it...to loud entering the room... Sam knew that being sloppy and being loud led to unwanted attention, but right now he couldn’t muster the strength to care. Didn’t even bother locking the door behind him as he kicked it shut, too busy staring at the room in hope of seeing Dean.

He wasn’t there, and Sam felt an ugly twist of despair and fury burn in his gut. The young Winchester wished for his brother back, wished he was in some sort of danger so Dean would automatically show up as usual. It made him almost tempted to call upon the Devil himself. Dean would surely show up than...

Kicking his shoes and socks off, feeling his body sag against a wall, he allowed such a thought to mull over his mind in lazy turns. But he brushed it aside, banishing all thoughts of the blonde-haired angel from his mind.

“Sam...”

His name made him jerk to attention, eyes eagerly turning towards the door in hopes of seeing his brother. But to his dismay, he saw that it was but the very being he just eradicated from his thoughts. “How did you find me?” he growled out, annoyed that of all the people he needed right now...Lucifer shows up. Common sense told him to be absolutely scared out of his mind, to run, to fumble in his pockets for his phone and call Dean -- or call on Castiel to zip him out of here. However, in his drunken stupidity common sense was on an extended vacation.

Baby blue eyes were thick in color in the dark lighting of the room, the yellow flashes of the motel sign bleeding through the flimsy curtains. Lucifer’s shadow burned across the floor, expanding and growing as if it was some contagious disease or ink seeping through the carpet. Forcing his eyes to not stare in mild horror at such a scene, his mind unable to rationalize what was occurring, hearing the soft footsteps of the Devil moving closer. “You needed me, Sam,” he began softly, words like cool water to a parched throat, “So I came.”

It was nice to know that the Devil will be there for you when your own brother is too busy somewhere else. Probably seducing the waitress in some diner, chatting with Bobby about him on the phone -- Sam shook his head, feeling his world shift violently to his left and right at the movement. He knew he was being spiteful again, but god it just felt right to be pissed. It felt good not being the first to hunker down on his back, show his belly and apologize first. Scowling into the darkness of the room, eyes glared at the concerned face the Devil was wearing, and with liquid courage he moved forward.

Sam was sick of always being the one to feel sorry and be sorry. No. To hell with Dean and to hell with Lucifer.

Sam’s fist met hard with the curve of Nick’s jaw, sending the blonde’s neck snapping harshly to the left, a sickening crack that was reminiscent of someone cracking their knuckles filled the small space. Sam Winchester knew that tonight he would be dead, and that realization made him fearful and uncaring all in one. Lucifer was going to turn his head, snap his fingers and become meat confetti -- celebration for his death. Than he’d be pieced back together and the process repeated over and over and over... Lucifer was going to tear his heart out like that sickening scene in Indiana Jones, offer it to the masses as it still beats in confusion. Impossible...but the devil always seemed to make the impossible possible.

As much as there was a deep-seated set of jaws that continually gnawed fear into his interior, he could only stay put. Felt proud. He punched the devil in the face and he was standing his ground. Actually, he felt good. Even though his knuckles were throbbing...he felt fucking good. If Lucifer wanted to tear him apart, so be it. So fucking be it.

Laughter filled the room. Growing in a soft chuckle to almost hysterics.

It took Sam a few moments to realize that it didn’t come from him, it came from Lucifer.

The blonde was clutching at his side, body bowed forward as laughter fell in buckets out of chapped lips. Slowly lifting his body back up, eyes turned to him, mouth opened to reveal a slow moving tongue that swept the underside of his upper jaw in curiosity. “Is this...what you want, Sam?” came the rather breathless reply, teeth clicking together that made the Winchester shudder involuntarily at the sinking cold suddenly filling his bones. The sudden impact of knowing that he may truly die, that death was very close made him sick to his stomach. Opening his mouth uselessly, trying to form an apology, he felt his eyes drift nervously elsewhere.

_Oh shit. Shit. I punched the devil. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

That cockiness, that arrogance was leaving him quickly and he could feel himself begin to sober up to a painful degree. Feeling himself frozen in place before the blonde, he felt knees refuse to unlock themselves and his insides twist in growing nausea.

“What?” Lucifer mused out in growing curiosity, lips stretching out with such smoothness, “Getting cold feet, Sam? Going to run away again...like you always do?” Sam felt as if he was punched in the gut, the phantom feeling of a fist against his abdomen making him exhale sharply. Sam heard those words before, knew that they came to Dean during their fight when he stormed off. Hearing it only riled him up like before, and he could feel his jaw tremble in that rising need to pummel his fist into that smirking, arrogant face. Sam knew Lucifer was goading him...tossing him a bone tied to a string, and dangling it before him...asking him to go ahead and chase after it.

Giving in, feeling his knees suddenly unlock and his limbs become mobile once more, he chased after that bone. He rammed his fist into one of those brilliant eyes of wild blue, feeling an ugly thrill of pride rush through his veins as the blonde staggered back until he met the door. Oh that felt good. Confidence was being rebuilt, forming and building a place of worship for his anger, and he could only stalk forward. Rising his fist once more, he brought it down heavily on that eye, hearing a low hiss leaving the blonde. Now that was a sound that made him only grin giddily, fingers gripping the scruff of Lucifer’s shirt. Keeping him pinned against the door, eyes of now glinting silver stared in challenge at him.

“Done already?” chapped lips trickled out with their gunpowder words to his matchstick emotions.

Snarling, he responded by punching the blonde in the gut, feeling the body instinctually lean against him. Shoving him off of him, body hitting the door, he backed away slowly from it to pace about the room. Sam kept his eyes of swirling blue and hazel green on the blonde that was panting against the door, hand holding onto the wall for support. Lucifer wasn’t making a show of responding to fight him, instead allowing him to use him as a punching bag, and it made the young Winchester greedy. He didn’t want to let go of this opportunity to beat his enemy until he was black and blue in the face and not hear the reprimanding speech from Dean or Bobby about him going ‘too far.’ Ever since demon blood was revealed to his older brother, there was suspicion...wariness...and the same applied to Bobby. It made the youth ache that the strong male figures in his life, that he lovingly looked up to thought so poorly of him at times.

Here was Lucifer offering him release...

Moving back, fingers yanked the blonde by the shirt again, hearing the soft protest of seams tearing lightly. Shoving him roughly on his knees, eyes of arctic waters watched him with cold knowledge and assurance, making him purse his lips. Slinging another punch into the blondes jaw, before dealing another one, he eyed the blonde as he spit out blood. Weaseling fingers into his own mouth, the Devil pulled a molar out to flick it casually into the room. Sam shifted nervously all of a sudden on his feet, feeling a slight pang of guilt gripping him. It seemed...unfair...to be beating the Devil without him fighting back. Which was a silly thing to even _think_ about but...the Devil was wearing a meatsuit, and the only one truly feeling the blows was the meatsuit. It’s just...

Morals were beginning to trickle in, and he hissed in dismay, not at all enjoying the internal conflict. He wanted to keep on punching Lucifer, wanted to keep on doing it until his fist simply broke. But...he couldn’t even bring himself to be so inhumane and he internally howled in distraught.

“Fight back,” he almost begged, before clearing his throat and repeating it darkly, yanking the blonde onto his feet. Lucifer frowned and shook his head, and Sam didn’t need the blonde to open his mouth to know what his words would be. The Devil simply wouldn’t hurt him in such a manner, and it only made Sam more persistent.

“Come on!” Sam taunted harshly, hands pushing hard at Lucifer’s chest, the devil willingly stepping a few steps back. Lucifer opened his mouth to voice his protest with a reasoning tone, but Sam only allowed his nostrils to flare with a condescending snort in disbelief, “Come on!”

The blonde pursed his lips, staring somewhere at the Winchester’s chest before turning his eyes back. “If this is what you wish...” he drawled off and before Sam could even brace himself or rethink his words, he felt his eyes tear up in pain. The heel of Nick’s palm rammed itself against his nose to such a degree, he swore it was broken in two places. The fragile limb felt as if it was shoved straight up into his skull -- right between his eyes. Blood was trickling out of his nose, and when he inhaled he inhaled snot and blood. Sam couldn’t lie...it almost made him proud in a sickening sort of way, but it was nothing to shut him out from the pain. Wincing at the pain, bending his body over, he felt the cool hand of Lucifer’s on his shoulder, his own body bending to inspect his face. A look of concern gripped hip, fingers tilting his head so he could look at his handiwork, before leaning forward to leave a Judas’ Kiss on his cheek. It was the devil’s way of saying, _“This is what you ordered, I’m just merely delivering.”_

Lucifer whispered his name somewhere near his left ear before punching the underside of his chin, body reeling backwards until he hit the floor.

Sam hissed at the pain and how rattled his skull felt, feeling all that gray matter inside hit the walls of pure bone to the point he saw ugly shades of purple. Eyes wearily opened to see the hovering fallen angel, looking like he just walked out of a street fight. Blonde hair was askew, right eye closed shut from crusting blood, sticking up funny near the back, clothes twisted about, revealing a peeking hip. His left brow held a deep cut, and already the Winchester could see the wound was closing up. Sam almost forgot that Lucifer could heal Nick, but knowing that the devil was doing it so slowly...keeping his wounds on display... Sam knew it was for him. It was as if Lucifer was continuing to feed some sort of sick new fetish of his, and the devil was more than happy to endorse it.

The devil moved over him, slowly sitting on his stomach, gently breathing in the rather frigid air. Leaning forward, calloused fingers skimmed across his clothed chest to his sore jaw, making its way to his nose. The brunette winced but the icy touch and aftereffect left his sore frame rather numb, his eyes now focusing on the raw-red left cheekbone on Nick. Blood and sweat was matted nicely around the swollen eye, yet when open the blue iris underneath burned such a color that it reminded him of those super bright LEDs on cars. Lucifer tilted his head upward, eyes staring down past his nose, lips curling into the makings of a sneer. Pink flesh of a tongue escaped to toy with a particularly sharp incisor, and Sam found himself distracted enough before realization that the devil was going to reset his nose.

A howl of pain left him when it was performed, body thrashing, and Sam swore he saw a rather pleased look take hold of the blonde’s face. Lucifer merely leaned back on the Winchester, blinking quietly as the sound reverberated and echoed throughout the room as if it was placed through an intercom. Inhaling through his mouth, he brought his hand up to swipe at his own nose, Nick’s blood wiped up before being swept by his tongue. Wetting his lips, the blonde turned his attention back to the now panting brunette, leftover of tears streaked across his face from the unbearable onslaught of quick pain.

“Up for round two?”

Sam responded by reaching out to grip Lucifer’s neck, fingers crawling upward until they curled into blonde locks. The devil stared, cut lips curving on the edges in knowledge of what was going to occur. Gripping tighter, he pulled his head closer towards his while raising his own up, soon bashing his head into the Devil’s.

The Devil was an opportunistic hunter, and like a shark whether it is daytime or nighttime, if the opportunity arose he would sink his teeth into his prey. One bite and it’s a done deal: you were forever stuck in his jaws. While Lucifer would prefer his methods to be more verbal than physical when it come to convincing Sam Winchester to become his vessel, if Sam was barring his neck to him...oh, he was going to bite. Hard.

He knew he could kill Sam, that it would be a matter of six-seconds and he would simply be dead. However, he would never bring such a thing to his vessel that would lead him to such thrilling success. With Sam Winchester he could easily overpower his brother in a fight, for Lucifer was no idiot. He saw how Dean Winchester acted, knew he would never sink onto his knees and say ‘yes’ to an angel who was terrible at convincing and simple rhetoric. Sam, though? Sam would say ‘yes’, and if it meant letting Sam engage in such activity like now...why not? It was more fuel for the fire, more points on his side and more stoking the angry fire inside his vessel.

Wrestling on the carpet, feeling it burn against his skin as he was dragged closer to Sam for a punch straight in the nose, he retaliated by kicking the Winchester in the gut. Teeth were barred at one another, fingers scrambling and grasping at what they could to harm the other. The further they continued into this little game, the more and more were they sinking to dirty tactics and it was a matter of time before they felt biting the other would get them far.

Lucifer suddenly found himself pinned onto the floor, Sam’s body heavy on him and making his already screaming vessel whine in his skull. The Winchester was leaning against a bruised rib and a low growl reverberated from the base of Lucifer’s throat at it. Long fingers moved up to his throat and suddenly latched on, attempting to choke the Devil. Angels didn’t need to breathe, but vessels did and especially if you still want their bodily functioning to work. You can’t just walk about in a vessel and allow their entire body to shut down internally. So while Lucifer didn’t need to breathe, Nick did, and he could feel his vessel panic within him. Bringing Nick back to life like he did when Dean shot him with the Colt was simply a pain, and already his hands were out to shove the Winchester aside.

Sam persisted, allowing more of his weight to be placed further.

Eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as his hands clawed at the dark head of thick locks, snagging it with his fingers and bringing the youth down towards him. The only thing that would work to remotely shock the youth was ramming his head against his, watching the Winchester jerk back and clutch his head. Roughly pushing the Winchester off, he staggered onto his feet and gripped thick locks of muddy brown, yanking the male onto his feet. A whine in protest and a strangled hiss left Sam as he struggled to claw at the iron grip tugging him around.

“ _Assholeletmego_!” he managed to slur together in a yelp as he was tossed like a rag doll onto the bed, feeling his head harshly meet with the headboard. Clenching his eyes and rubbing the back of his head in pain, he cracked an eye open to watch the calm blonde move towards him like a predator. Bending a leg, he allowed it to extend roughly to plant his bare foot against a collarbone. With all the fear and adrenaline coursing through his system, he had to say he was rather impressed when he kicked the Devil off the bed.

Breathing harshly as he heard a thud, he kept himself painfully still as he waited for all fire and brimstone to break out. Sam was growing nervous when silence began to trickle in, and it was after a shudderingly long minute did he boldly crawl over to the edge of the bed. Peering over it he stared at still body of Lucifer, eyeing the trickle of blood on the side of his head where it met the edge of the bed. From what it looked like, he knocked Lucifer’s vessel out, and he could only sigh in relief. Sam desperately needed to catch his breath and the Devil kept on coming at him without a hint of exhaustion, and that was something he forgot to expect when goading the Devil to fight back.

Out of all his bright ideas, this was _by far_ the worst.

About to finally allow himself to relax, a hand gripped his throat, eyes widening as the still body was quite awake. Lucifer was pushing himself onto his feet as he gave a little smirk that told Sam that the devil was only playing possum, and here was the consequences of it. Fingers were digging further into his neck and Sam was quite sure that if he ever survived from this that there would be heavy bruising about. Grasping at Lucifer’s hand, trying to pry it off, he found it release him when his head became heady. Flopping ungainly on the moth-eaten mattress, a yelp in surprise left him when the Devil approached him, and Sam did what he did best when it came to being stuck in uncertain predicaments: thrashing.

The blonde was frowning and pinning a leg down, using his weight to keep the panicking Winchester down, because honestly...he did not appreciate being kicked unceremoniously off of the bed in such a manner. His vessel’s collarbone was simply aching and it was only polite he returned the favor -- Winchester’s orders and all. About to pin an arm, before Lucifer could lay his palm on the inside of an elbow, Sam rose his head to bite Lucifer hard on the neck as a last minute attempt.

A low sound suddenly left the fallen angel when teeth dug in deep into his Adam’s Apple, a surprised look dancing brilliantly on his face. Sam mirrored his look, shock at the response apparent on his features as he felt his mouth open and close uselessly. For that brief moment the Devil was sedated, and Sam saw a window of opportunity. Call it stupid, call it crazy but he needed to right the wrong he created by letting Lucifer fight back. If this made the Devil halt in his tracks, than so be it. Instead of presenting himself as a threat to this shark, he would simply show himself to be something else.

So he leaned back forward to nip at the spot once more, feeling the tightening hold on him slowly relax. Good, good...he was getting somewhere with this. Than they were both scrambling against each other, teeth snapping at one another as limbs were twisting and moving in a crazed fury. Sam panicked, not entirely sure if he took it too far before his worry was silenced by lips roughly finding his mouth. The hunter responded instinctually when the taste of blood-stained lips met his, fingers gripping blonde hair as he shoved his mouth against his, tongue fiercely plummeting through the parted mouth. A sense of greed was rising through him as he felt his body latch onto the older being, feeling his curiosity make him hesitant.

The Devil simply smirked.

Halting the tongue that was conquering the interior of his mouth with his own, he leaned forward for leverage as he allowed the pink muscle to pin Sam’s tongue down against the row of teeth on his bottom jaw. Sucking on the tongue, teeth dragging across the wet flesh, Sam felt his hips roll in encouragement against him. Feeling himself become breathless when teeth tauntingly bit down when it hit the top of his tongue before releasing him, he felt blood slowly begin to pool downward in this growing excitement.

Flipping him onto his back, Lucifer gave a deep-seated smirk as he stretched out on the mattress, feeling sore limbs throb gently. He saw no reason to reject the Winchester from indulging in his little sins. Just like the dilemma with taking demon blood, there was a trail of gnawing guilt that plagued the Winchester...and with this, there would only be another trail. So he allowed hands to jerk him out of his shirt, the ever so soft sound of fabric ripping filling the air once more as he finally felt his shirt be tugged over his head. The Devil could only lay back and watch the show of Sam keep his large hands on his chest, keeping him pinned to the mattress as a mouth scoured across the planes of an already bruising abdomen. Sucking on a bruise, teeth scrapping against blossoming purple and pink skin, a low hiss slithered past his teeth.

Dipping his mouth, he sucked on the section of his body where hipbones jutted out, licking the dip of bones and soft outlines of ever-so-faint veins. Drawing back, fingers worked on the jeans, pace erratic and needy as he yanked the denim down. Shucking it down, he briefly slid off of the blonde to yank the frivolities like shoes and socks off before finally pulling the jeans off. Lucifer kept himself still, eyes glinting with wariness, eager to pop the Winchester’s head off for manhandling him. But patience was the key to this game and if he could wait eons and eons for Sam Winchester to come to be and make the decisions he made today...than he could hold on just a bit longer.

The young Winchester was too busy fiddling with the button on his jeans before nearly ripping the zipper down, feeling adrenaline making him too excited -- too eager -- and too sloppy.

It was a taste of freedom without consequence, and it was that freedom that would have Sam breaking underneath his influence. Lucifer closed his eyes and simply basked in it all...

Suddenly he hissed and snarled like some caged beast in all insult and shock when he felt something nudge against him. As much as the Devil was willing to show his belly in some show to reel the Winchester further into the grave he was digging for him, to spread his legs? Now there was a line where ego refused to let anyone cross, and right now Lucifer was not about to let some human do such a thing.

Sam barred his teeth when he felt a knee jam itself hard against his jaw, making him see lights as he felt his jaw slam down hard on his tongue from the gesture. Dealing with the Devil was like dealing with a ferocious predator, never quite knowing if he finally calmed him down or if he was just waiting to be provoked into a sea of fury. Sam huffed and drew his mouth back, bruised and cut face staring firmly down at him. “You want me to say ‘yes’ to you, don’t you?” Sam finally blurted out in all its threatening glory, and the fallen angel felt his erratic movements calming down. Staring at the Winchester with his bloodstained face from a cut on his cheek and his nose, Lucifer eyed the fierce determination and something that resembled faint worry on his future vessel’s face. Working his jaw slowly, feeling bone rub against its socket, he released a heavy sigh.

“...yes...”

“Than shut up and stay put.”

Lucifer knew when he was being given empty words, but as an archangel who strove to gain consent from Sam, customer service was something he had to dabble with. If he had his way, he would have ambushed Sam Winchester with threats, force the youth to say ‘yes’ and call it a successful day. So as much as he would like to hurt the youth at the moment, he gritted his teeth and felt his toes curl into the comforter as something hot pushed itself further. The brunette muttered something darkly underneath his breath as he fisted a handful of the comforter, using it as leverage to pull himself further in. Inch by inch he felt his chest vibrate in excruciating pleasure at the severity of the resistance each muscle in Lucifer’s body was giving him. Judging from the way he was given a scornful look, the Winchester had a hunch it was all on purpose.

Biting his bottom lip, feeling teeth dig deeper into a cut, he muffled a groan when he felt himself fully taken in. The pain was a pleasant distraction from how badly he simply just wanted to come right than and there, feeling his chest tremble and a muscle in his leg twitch. Lucifer was an unforgiving temperature of cold but inside he was scalding hot, as if he just jumped into the shower where the water was just a bit too hot for him to fully relax. It was as if he was holding his hand over the flame, teasing the fire with his fingertips as they stretched into the dark night to try and lick it for being so foolish.

Sam could only feel a hot shiver that rushed through his entire being, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as he relished in the way Lucifer was adjusting to his size.

Moving slowly out, in the dim lighting of the room, he watched lips part to breathe in sharply. Pulling out, Sam felt his body simply shake from the loss of that heat and almost unbearable tightness, instantly feeling himself push himself back in. Rocking himself into a curious pace, feeling muscles finally relax, he felt a hand reach out and snag him by his sweaty locks. Yanking him down, angle shifting dramatically, mouth found the Winchester’s neck. Sucking on the skin that tasted of sweat, beer, smoke, and chamomile, teeth crudely cut into the birthing hickey. Yelping in shock at the abuse, the Winchester retaliated by continuing on with moving inside the Devil, quickening his thrusts despite how different this angle felt on him.

Teeth unlatched itself from his neck, feeling blood drip down -- or was it sweat? -- falling down the curves of a bruised collarbone. A mixture between a groan and a sharp outtake of air, and it’s enough to make the Winchester feel bliss bloom hotly in his being, searing every inner organ until his internal functioning feels as if it is breaking down. Pain hovered under the skin of this icy hot bliss, drawing a fine line of whether this was some sort of act of inflicting pain or something simply meant to be the opposite. Sam couldn’t even claim to be debating over such a topic -- as if he was in some moral dilemma at the moment -- instead too focused on the beautiful sounds reaching his ear.

Fingers were skimming the planes of his back, running through bulging muscles that shifted underneath the feel of cold fingers. Digging into his back, he sped up his pace when he felt Lucifer’s neglected length rub against his belly, making the blonde curse in Enochian and arch upward. Sam felt himself sloppily pounding away, pathetic noises being wretched from his lips before shoving them against the Devil’s mouth, battered lips searching and starving. Such familiarity gripped him when they met, lips rubbing against the other, the salt of their sweat slipping into cuts to the point it made Sam’s eyes burn. God...he needed to inhale Lucifer’s breath. Needed to inhale his entire being, feeling himself sent to such a high as teeth clicked and clashed against another in their frenzied kiss.

Mouths parted with a wet noise, and Sam licked his bleeding lips, sitting back on his haunches. Such ugly familiarity and he felt as if he has been holding his breath his entire life until now... Cold clarity gripped him, as if some blinder was torn off, and he knew for a fact...he would say ‘yes.’ It frightened him at first as this knowledge gripped him, as if he took that bite of that Forbidden Fruit, but... But the tantalizing fact that he would be superior, smarter, stronger -- to be genetically enhanced was given to him in this hazy cloud of bliss. To have such power and certain identity from all those years he has been simply lost...weak... Sam supposed it comforted him to simply know, and watching the Devil dig further and further into his back, pushing him to quicken did he feel his chest expand in pride.

Clumsy, erratic, sloppy, and wet were his thrusts as he watched every cut, bruise and crusted blood shine like muddied stars on the Devil’s body. The yellow flashing from the sign outside made each one burn his retinas as he watched the body underneath him jerk and move underneath him, wounds splitting further apart from his movements. Exciting the Winchester, feeling himself grab his hips he pulled him in to meet his wild movements, feeling muscles tighten against him in all their heated fury. Clenching his teeth, trying to force himself to just hold on a bit longer, a beautiful sound was retched out of the blonde’s mouth as he came abruptly. It was permission enough for the brunette to follow after, feeling his prolonged orgasm hit him hard, a sunburst of colors rendering him blind for a good minute or so.

Choking out moans at his suddenly sensitive body trembled inside Lucifer’s vessel, he felt his limbs suddenly grow tired. Weakly pulling himself out, it was when he did so did every blow he received and cut that was dealt slammed against the pain center in his skull roughly. Clenching his jaw, he clawed at the comforter, feeling his eyes cloud over with tears at the excruciating pain that suddenly visited him. The bliss from the moment was gone -- temporary and short, and the pain that followed after had him shaking violently.

Panic was slowly welling up in his throat, creating a bulbous lump in his throat until it would surely burst like a water balloon. A hand reached out and cupped his jaw which he was certain was unhinged on one side, rivulets of piercing agony burning on one side. Yet the pressure was suddenly fading aside, the color black consuming the neon colors of hurt in his skull. Blinking aside the tears, he found the still regal expression and aura Lucifer could never seem to tear away from. Despite the closed up eye of crusted blood and bruising purple, there was something of calm authority rippling through him.

_Did you lose something?_

The words burned through his skull as he felt ice with claws running and dancing in slow twirls up his veins, but he knew that the Devil didn’t open his mouth to speak to him. Instead all he could feel was this neediness gripping him, praying that this cool touch...this loving balm to all his wounds would never leave... That this icy familiarity and knowledge would never leave him to the gaping darkness of uncertainty. Sam knew something was awfully wrong...that this was not at all healthy nor acceptable, but...but he couldn’t bear to ache anymore, and it made the cravings for demon blood stir in the bowels of his being. He didn’t want to face the cuts and bruises on his body.... He felt as if his innocence was ripped clean from him despite the fact such dominance was handed to him...yet this touch became his new comfort blanket.

Lucifer stroked the bruised arch of a cheek bone as he drifted his hand upward, maternally brushing dark locks of hair behind his ear with his free hand. The Devil was quite satisfied with this all because humans are instinctual creatures. They wish to live, and as much as one wants to preach that they are self-sacrificing, when it comes to the ending act...all humans will do their best to simply survive. Only a few are willing to place their neck out for the awaiting axe, and Sam was not that unique exception. So he would give him his slow-working poison...make him eat out of his hands so that when push comes to shove, he will give himself to him not out of arrogance that he could beat him...but out of the need to simply survive.

Who says you can’t dig a grave from the bottom?

**Author's Note:**

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